


Silence At The End of All Things

by iamtheoneinthehole



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Minecraft Zombie AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 04:15:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2608121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamtheoneinthehole/pseuds/iamtheoneinthehole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'He hadn't known about the impending threat that threatened to rip civilization as they knew it apart back then. Then again, no one had. It hadn't been until the walls of the village had fallen that anyone had first used the term 'living dead'. Jack Pattillo ran the day Achievement City fell to the undead, now he's just trying to pick up the pieces. But how can ever a builder lay steady foundations in the ruins of a crumbling city. Enter Geoff Ramsey and his ragtag band of survivors, hell bent on making a life for themselves in the 'afterlife', or at the very least not leaving this world without a goddamn fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence At The End of All Things

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ve been wanting to write this au since forever ago, and wanting to post something to tide you guys through my uni-imposed hiatus for almost as long so… voila! A little taste of what’s to come when I have the time to fully expand this au. I hope you guys enjoy!

Jack closed his eyes as he braced his back against the door, doing his best to ignore the protest in his limbs as he forced it shut against the hoards battering at it from the outside. Soon the sun would rise, he told himself, soon they’d turn to ash and for at least another cycle of the sun he’d be safe. He just had to make it through the night.

That was easier said than done though when the hoards were so many, and the wood of the door so flimsily crafted. It lacked the fine polish and sturdy base that Griffon O ‘Connell , his town’s carpenter, was renowned for. Plus the house itself lacked the supportive structure that his own family, the Pattillo clan, had made a reassuring presence throughout his village growing up.

Before the creepers had come and torn it apart, turning his safe haven to rubble and any of those who survived the ordeal out on the streets, left to fend for themselves in a world that was as cruel as it was vast. He’d lost his parents that day, along with the majority of their legacy, leaving Jack a scared eighteen year old boy left to fend for himself as he’d travelled over to the nearest village, accepting work from anyone who’d take it and sleeping at night under the stars.

After a while, he’d almost come to appreciate the simplicity of it, the way his problems had always seemed eclipsed beneath the moonlight, back when it’d still been relatively safe to lie back at night and observe the stars. After all, the creepers had mostly destroyed themselves as they’d destroyed his former village, and the borders kept the skeleton archers out of this one well enough… he hadn’t known about the impending threat that threatened to rip civilisation as they knew it apart back then. Then again, no one had.

It hadn’t been until the walls of the village had fallen that anyone had first used the term ‘living dead’.

Jack had been alone that night, nothing had been remarkable about that either save the utter stillness of it, the silence. No rabbits hopped around across the moss, both cow and sheep conspicuously absent and even the pigs failed to squeal into the dark. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but the silence had been an omen.

A mere hour later and the ‘living dead’ had breached the walls, reanimated corpses with sunken eyes and vacant souls and… Jack had run. He’d glanced around and taken in the rot and the stench of decay and had fled, locked himself away in the nearest home he could find as the swarm began to descend upon the masses.

That had been roughly a week ago, and with very few survivors left to fight, Jack knew his chances of escape were rapidly dwindling… all the same he couldn’t quite bring himself to stand up from the rickety old floor and fight. Fear, or perhaps the weary sense of defeat that’d clung to his bones ever since the day his village had burned, froze his joints, leaving him locked in place; alone, terrified, starving and filled with regret. Waiting to die alone…

He took a deep breath, steeling himself against the negative, fearful thoughts that threatened to take over as he adjusted his grip on his father’s old, well worn, axe just a fraction and chanced a glance out of one of the gaps in the uneven woodwork. He could make out at least three figures beyond the door, less than before it seemed though it was probably just the limited vision he had from this angle and a hint of wishful thinking coming into play there. At least none of the mindless hoards had thought to push in through the windows… yet anyway.

It was most likely only a matter of time though until one of the undead found their way in. This home hadn’t been built with duration in mind after all and Jack was painfully aware that by locking himself away in here, he’d effectively cut himself off from the world. No way in, no way out. A price he deserved to pay, he supposed, for his cowardice. For not fighting alongside the village that’d taken him into their borders, for turning a blind eye and ear when the villagers had started to fall and scream and…

“Hey! Asshole with the pickaxe! If you’re done having some kind of existential crisis we could kinda use some help out here.” Jack blinked, eyes a fraction wider and body tense as a coil as he attempted to locate the source of the voice, stumbling back a few steps in shock at his eyes met another’s on the other side of wood. He hadn’t realised anyone had survived, let alone that they were in a good enough condition to be peeking into buildings for other survivors. Stirrings of something akin to hope began to unfurl within his chest unbidden as he slowly edged his way back to the gap in the woodwork to meet the man’s gaze.

“What do you need help with?

A slight scoff was heard and then, “You’re fucking kidding me right? Either you’re a dumbass, the most oblivious fucker I’ve ever met, or you’re playing dumbass. If it’s the last one fucking spare me, if it’s one of the other two then try opening your door, that’ll probably clear things up pretty damn quick.”

“Okay point taken dick.” He wasn’t sure but he thought he saw a smile in the man’s eyes in response to that… the man’s ridiculously blue eyes, that were just a little bit too distracting for Jack’s own good given the current circumstances, “You seem to have things pretty well under control though as far as I can see it?”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re talking to me instead of running and screaming?”

“Says the guy who run and hid.” Jack winced a little at that. It must’ve shown in his eyes or something because moments later the man was adding, “Look I’m not gonna judge as long as you come out and help us now. A lot of people ran when those fuckers came, myself included. But we’re here now and for the sake of those that didn’t… someone needs to bury these people, you know?”

There was something in the man’s eyes, a raw sort of pain that Jack could feel beginning to claw at his own gut, which gnawed at his very bones. It was almost like he could see his own soul reflected back in the man’s eyes that were looking… well a little watery at this point. And goddamn if Jack’s protective instincts hadn’t always been a sucker for a pretty pair of eyes that looked just a little broken.

“Yeah, yeah I do. On my way jackass.” He pushed himself off the floor, a little relieved by the small huff of not quite laughter he heard coming from the other end. A slight nudge to the wood had the door creaking open with ease to reveal a mass of bodies, and at their centre the man with the brilliant blue eyes, one of his hands hovering over a sword with the slightest reddened tinge to its tip.

He was flanked on either side by a couple of other survivors, the ones the other pairs of feet had belonged to he assumed. The one to the man’s left was a tall, fairly built figure with twin blades hanging from his belt that’d clearly seen quite a bit of action. It was the hint of something in the man’s eyes, just an inch sort of fucking _gleeful_ that made Jack back away a few paces. The woman to the man’s right however was a far more welcome sight.

“…Griffon?” She squinted at him for a long second before her eyes suddenly widened in recognition and moments later he had an armful of enthusiastic carpenter, locking him in an embrace that was surprisingly warm and soft.

“Good to see you again Jack.” She offered with a soft smile as she pulled back, “Ry you can hold back on the creepy vibes, this one’s okay.” The man in question actually seemed to _pout_ a little at this, making Jack revaluate this man’s intimidation factor just a fraction.

“I wasn’t going to do anything _too_ bad…”

“Last time you said that, you made the guy in question literally shit his pants.”

“The ‘guy in question’ was Geoff, suffice to say he’s forgiven me.”

“That’s what you think asshole.” The blue-eyed man, or _Geoff_ as Jack now knew him, cheeks seemed to redden a fraction as he pointedly glared at Ryan, and seemed to avoid eye contact with everyone else.

“Mostly forgiven me then. And besides, better that then we wind up dead because we decided to trust some random stranger.” Griffon sighed a little at this.

“Point taken, but Jack’s not a stranger to me. His family used to build the houses I worked on.”

“I’ll take your word for it then… Ryan Haywood.” The man turned from Griffon, offering Jack a hand that he tentatively took, still not entirely sure what to make of the stranger.

“Jack Pattillo.” The man’s gaze seemed to penetrate his for a long moment as the grip around his hand tightened, Ryan shaking his hand with a force that made it painfully (quite literally) apparent _exactly_ what the consequences would be if Griffon turned out to be wrong about him. Despite the pain though, Jack refused to flinch, giving back as good as he got and as they released hands, Jack was pretty sure he caught a glimmer of respect in the other man’s eyes.

“The ass to my right’s Geoff Ramsey.” Ryan added with a smirk.

“The dumbass to my left doesn’t get to have an opinion on my ass.” Jack couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped his lips in response to the comment, a feeling of warmth unfurling in his gut as Geoff shot him a slight smirk of his own in response. “You however feel free to give it all the feedback you like-“

“Alright you two let’s not scare Jack off before the hour’s out.” Griffon rolled her eyes as she turned back to face him, offering a quiet, “If these two get too much, let me know okay.” Jack nodded, his eyes never quite managing to leave Geoff’s that’d started to look a little intrigued and a lot predatory in a way that made his skin crawl, though not entirely in a bad way… “Geoff! Honestly pull yourself together. You can flirt with Jack later when we’re back at base.”

“That a promise O’Connell?” Griffon kind of looked like she wanted to punch Geoff in response to that as Ryan’s amused laughter burst across their surroundings. Jack himself didn’t know quite what to make of the situation, though his lips did quirk a little at the edges, the smile even lingering a little as they moved to the unenviable task of burying the dead.

Because even in the wake of such devastation, and with more blood on his hands through evasion than he’d ever be comfortable with, let alone able to forgive himself for, he could still appreciate that for the first time in days now he wasn’t alone and perhaps the first time in _years_ he wasn’t lonely.


End file.
